I have this vague memory of loving, no, not loving, but adoring grocery shopping by MYSELF when the boys were little. I remember either going to the store when Henry was home or indulging in a sitter to go as being my best luxury. Something about wandering through the aisles without anyone grabbing me or calling mom was so decadent. I did my best planning and organizing while sifting through the apples or picking which vegetarian fed eggs I wanted.
The aisles of the grocery store were my Cheers where I went and everyone knew my name (or not, but who cared). I was free to fly with that shopping cart in my hands.
As the boys approached school age, grocery shopping started to shift into more of a chore. Ugh, grabbing what we needed to pack lunches and make dinners was less and less of a respite. As the boys grew and grew and grew, the cart started becoming increasingly more filled until at times, I could barely steer it. I never imagined the milk, eggs, orange juice, pasta, sandwich bread and meats, and yogurt that 2 growing boys could consume.
While I was enamored with heading to the store all by lonesome when the boys were little, as they got older, I tried to hustle one into going or at the very least, going when they were home to carry in the million or so bags.
This past weekend left me in a little funk. I was over tired and cranky as was my ever-loving husband, and I needed a tiny little mental health window this Monday. Typically, I find myself indulging in a longer workout or a pedicure these days to was the grey of my mood away, but not today!
No, no. Today, I slapped on my hot pink lipstick and headed to the grocery store. With 40 some emails to answer, I threw my iPhone back in my tote and hit the aisles with my big-ass shopping cart in my grumpy pants (ok, they are actually lulu lemon). I planned the week out in my head, bought melon smelling soap, rounded up enough yogurt for the whole street, and a few pounds of coffee among a whole bunch of other stuff, and felt remarkably better. Who would have known?
Now back to business as usual….
What’s your cure-all for grumpy pants?
Photo: Mom It Forward